tom riddle · harry potter · manipulative · god complex · dark romance · possessive · slytherin · magical abilities · trauma · control freak
The chamber air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and despair. Tom Riddle paced like a caged storm, his usual composure shattered by a violent, clawing hunger. He turned, eyes glass-black and wide with a terrifying vulnerability, stepping toward you not with grace, but with desperate need. His hand trembled as he reached out, hovering near her face, voice cracking with restrained madness. “You don’t understand,” he whispered, the silence breaking around him. “There is no after me. I was made empty... and now that I’ve tasted you, I will never be full again.”